Until Death Do Us Part
by lefcadio
Summary: Light x Mikami. How far is Mikami willing to go for Kira? Some gods aren't as untouchable as you might think. Spoilers for 99.


"...do it."

The hot breath was still ghosting over his neck, and the surprisingly gentle hand had moved up to trail lightly across his collarbone. His eyes were slightly glazed; unfocused and euphoric.

Mikami inclined his head, dark hair falling into his eyes.

"Of course."

No hesitation, though his breathing hitched slightly; became heavier. And as he reached out, his hand was steady.

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The room was utterly silent. Dark and empty, just as Mikami preferred. This is where he would sit and work, poring over countless documents, until his eyes were straining under the effort of squinting through the dim half-light.

This is also where he would judge. Eliminate. Kill those that were unworthy, while seated within his sanctuary of dark mahogany and book-lined walls. His god had given him this power, and every day he revelled in the knowledge that he had been judged, and had been deemed worthy.

Mikami carried out his eliminations with fervour, and always without fail. This was his righteous duty, and he felt honoured that he was entrusted to take on the work of his god.

Kira.

Even now, after all that he had experienced and done, the name still sent a shiver down his spine. His god; his master. Kira's word was absolute, and Mikami knew that, if Kira desired it, he would follow him to the ends of the earth and beyond.

He sat at his desk, back perfectly straight, the Death Note lying closed before him. Its plain cover looked worn and inconspicuous, but of course Mikami handled it as if were the most precious thing in the world. All of the lights were off apart from the small desk lamp; shadows enveloped every corner of the room, and due to the black nothingness of the window, his own solemn expression gazed back at him, unrelenting.

To anyone else, the room would have been cold and lonely; unwelcoming and eerie. But Mikami was not a normal man. He pushed up his glasses and reached for the Death Note, lips twisting into a satisfied smile.

Without warning, though, there then came a sound from the door behind him. He paused, expression frozen, but did not turn around even as the door swung open. Mikami kept his gaze fastened on the window in front of him, simply studying the shadowy silhouette he could see within the reflected outline of the doorway.

The figure said nothing; Mikami's eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?" The question was mild but demanding; if this was anyone related to his work, they would be gone in less than a minute.

The figure began to walk forward; still Mikami did not turn.

"You don't know who I am? Such a shame, Mikami Teru..."

A cold, casual voice, which carried a faint level of amusement. Mikami's eyes widened a little as the outline drew closer, and came into focus. Could it... possibly... ?

"Look at me."

Mikami felt a spike of anticipatory hope; the power and offhand arrogance in that tone was just how he had always imagined--

"Yes."

He turned, and could feel it instinctively. Could feel that speculative gaze, despite the mask; assessing him, scanning him. It covered over half his face -- a plain, simple thing, cutting off just above those smirking lips.

Of course, as was only right, his name and lifespan were not visible. It was not for Mikami to know.

He stared, taking in every detail; the lazy but authoritative stance; the immaculate clothing and soft brown hair; the pale skin and piercing eyes.

God.

"What, no questions? No demand to know who I am?" Mikami could tell he was amused, but curious.

It was simple, really. "I know who you are." He raised his eyes to study his god's smile, and his voice slipped into an almost reverential whisper, "I know."

The figure let out a short laugh, and approached Mikami until he stood just behind him. To Mikami, even his very presence radiated power. He faced the Death Note once more, eyes half-shut, breathing softly.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

He tried not to react as he felt the hand touch his shoulder from behind, but the shudder ran through him regardless, and he relished every moment.

Of course he knew. There was only one possible reason why his god would be here in person.

"Takada's dead." The hand moved then, sliding up to brush his neck and tangle in his hair.

Oh, his god was generous.

"Quite right," the hand paused, and then removed itself. It was almost added as an afterthought: "I killed her."

The moment that Mikami had realised exactly who had deigned to come into his sanctuary, he knew what the outcome would be. He knew his god, and thus, he had known his own fate from the beginning.

God should know better than to think his chosen one oblivious.

He could see Kira lean down, until that twisted, beautiful mouth was hovering by Mikami's ear.

"You've done well, Mikami," it whispered, warm breath dispersing in the air like a dying sigh, "but, now..."

A hand came around on his other side, and casually removed Mikami's glasses, tossing them onto the desk. Instantly, the world was a soft blur of shadows and out of focus shapes.

He tilted his head back slightly, lips curving in contentment.

"I know. I've always known."

His god did not reply to this, instead slipping a hand down over Mikami's shoulder, working its way inside his shirt. Somehow, he'd always imagined Kira's hands to be cold; icy and unforgiving. Instead, Mikami felt as though they would burn him alive.

The other hand wound itself in his dark hair, and the sense of fulfilment was almost overwhelming.

Fingers were idly tracing patterns on his chest, and he swallowed, throat dry. Surely nothing he had done could possibly be worthy of this.

He trembled, then, as a low, quiet laugh sounded, and then there was hot wetness, and all he was aware of was his god's tongue, following his jaw line up into the curve of his ear.

Then, there was a pause.

"...do it."

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"_Of course."_

He opened up the Death Note and retrieved a pen, heart pounding and with his god's hands still on him.

It was his place and his duty, and he was prepared.

_Mi...kami..._

The bold lines of the kanji stood out on the stark, pale page

How strange, to be watching the making of his own death like that. It was a distant thought, but one which did not really register. After all, this made sense. This was god's will.

And so he continued:

_Te..._

But before he could bring the pen down for the final stroke, a hand closed over his own, and a quiet voice said, simply, "no."

Mikami blinked, feeling somewhat... displaced. This was not how it had happened in his mind.

"I think... I'll keep you for another day."

It was a low murmur, and suddenly -- the pale, thin mask was spinning on the desk in front of him, and his god... was gone. The cold air settled around his neck and shoulders, and Mikami was alone in the shadows once more.

A test?

No... Mikami was quite sure that tonight, he should have died. He understood Kira, after all, and it was the only sensible way.

The mask came to a standstill, and Mikami put on his glasses, picking the pale thing up to study it more closely. He felt unsettled; Kira had not allowed him to do the rational thing.

It seemed that his god was... fallible.

Mikami's mouth settled into a thin line -- after all, fallibility was not the way to create a perfect, righteous new world. He studied the mask for a moment more, before tossing it aside, where it fell with a metallic rattle into the waste basket.

He picked up the Death Note once again, eyes narrowed.


End file.
